


closer to you

by FaiaSakura



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boyfriend Jacket but keith gets the jacket before he gets the boyfriend, Boyfriend jacket, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, M/M, No Epilogue, No Season 8
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:15:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22607608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaiaSakura/pseuds/FaiaSakura
Summary: Keith ends up in Shiro's hoodie. That's not the best part of his night.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 69
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	closer to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feline_person](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feline_person/gifts).



> feline_person, I hope you like it! I found some of your art to figure out what kinds of things you would like (your art is super cute btw).

Keith does his best to ignore the chill of the desert air and focus on the story his mom is telling about her first time on Earth as they hike into the night.

It’s one he’s both heard before and witnessed in quantum flashbacks. Hearing it now stretches their time together into liminal space—only the dry air and dusty wind make it discernable from being back in the quantum abyss.

Their path is lit only by the moon, and the cold air seeps easily into his threadbare clothing. It’s reminiscent of all the other times he’s wandered the desert alone—only now, he has family with him.

He must fail to suppress his shivering completely, because his mom cuts herself off with a soft frown to say, “I told you to wear an extra jacket.”

“I’m fine. I’ve lived here for most of my life,” Keith says. “Besides, it got a lot colder on the space whale.”

Their familiar banter makes him wish for more—not from his mom, or even for his dad, but for what his parents hold: a love so strong that it transcends space and death. 

“Well, we’re not on it anymore. You’ve got plenty of clothes on Earth,” his mom says, in an oddly definite way. She clicks her tongue, calling Kosmo’s attention from where the wolf has wandered ahead.

Keith realizes what she’s planning as Kosmo trots back, eager for attention. “That’s not necessary. Go back to sniffing the rocks, boy.”

Kosmo bumps his head against his mom’s waist and traitorously stays attentive to her. She laughs and says, “Good boy. Go get Keith a jacket and I’ll give you a treat.”

One “woof” and Kosmo is gone.

“This is really not necessary. I can handle a little cold.”

“Too late,” she says, just as Kosmo pops back with his hoodie.

At least, Keith thinks it’s his, until he puts it on and realizes it’s too loose even for a sweatshirt. He blames the darkness for not noticing beforehand.

Between the scent of the hoodie and the baggy fit, he knows exactly who the jacket belongs to—Shiro. They’ve spent the past week of downtime going through Shiro’s old belongings, the ones Keith stored away for him what seems like a lifetime ago.

He traces his hand over the NASA graphic on the front of it and feels nostalgic for all the times he saw Shiro wearing it before Kerberos, before Voltron, before the war. The hoodie hasn’t been altered to accommodate Shiro’s new arm—Shiro isn’t sure if he wants to for any of his old clothes. Maybe it feels too awkward, like trying to slip into an old skin already shed.

Keith justifies keeping the jacket on by reasoning it won’t make a difference if he takes it off now or later—so he might as well take it off later. He ignores how comfortable being enveloped in Shiro’s scent is.

“Kosmo, you can’t take other people’s stuff.” Keith tries to scold his wolf to no avail—from the glowing light the wolf gives off, he can see Kosmo is unrepentant and shamelessly begging his mom for the treat she promised.

“I guess I didn’t say to get you your own jacket,” she says with a laugh.

Keith sighs. “So, you were saying about dad?” he asks, turning the subject away from any and all jackets. She lets him, even though Keith could probably tell this story just as well as she can.

He can make out the faintest amusement on his mom’s face in the darkness as she continues anyway.

* * *

Keith ignores his mom’s knowing look as they part ways inside the Garrison and he heads off to Shiro’s room.

He should really take the hoodie off now. It’s not that he cares if anyone sees him in it—and nobody except the skeletal night crew is up at these hours anyway—it’s that he feels like he’s overstepped.

Shiro had left boxes of his things at Keith’s house when he went on the Kerberos mission—boxes that included this hoodie. How many times had Keith it on his darkest moments after the mission was declared a failure, to feel closer to Shiro? And then put it back when he got a lid tamped down on his emotions, so the sweatshirt would be ready for him to wear when he got back? Because of course Shiro would come back, Garrison bullshit be damned. Keith never accepted any other option—and never will, no matter the odds.

Keith shivers, this time in response to the chilling thoughts that he banishes as quickly as they creep in. He reaches Shiro’s door and knocks before remembering he meant to take off the hoodie.

The eyehole goes dark and the door opens—too late now.

“Keith?” Shiro looks alert despite the late hour. Keith hopes, from the way Shiro looks impossibly soft in flannel pajamas, that he was for once relaxing instead of working when Keith knocked. “You’re, um.” Shiro cuts off and coughs.

“Sorry, Kosmo decided to steal your sweater for me. I came to return it,” Keith says, before realizing it might be strange to return a worn hoodie. “Oh, I can wash it first.”

“That’s not necessary,” Shiro rushes to say. “I mean. You can keep it. On. You can keep it on.” Shiro is backlit from the light spilling out of his doorway into the dim hallway but Keith sees him start to flush. “For as long as you want. Forever, even.”

“Are you okay?” Keith has never seen Shiro so flustered or inarticulate. He takes a step forward, trying to get a better look at Shiro and figure out what’s making him act so oddly.

Shiro misinterprets the move and steps back to let Keith into his quarters, closing the door behind them both.

In the brightly lit living room, Keith can see him much better. Shiro’s entire face is glowing pink. It’s not from anger—Keith has seen Shiro furious plenty of times before, and this isn’t that. Keith would suspect a sudden onset fever, but Shiro’s eyes are clear, for all that they won’t meet his own.

“Hey, did I do something wrong? You can tell me anything.” Keith places a hand on Shiro’s arm and tries to catch his eye. It burns hot under Keith’s chilly hand, even through his long sleeve shirt.

Shiro clears his throat and finally looks back at Keith. “No,” Shiro says. “It’s silly.” He draws in a breath, like he has to steady himself. But why would he need to do that? “You just look good in it, is all.”

“What? It’s just a hoodie,” Keith says, confused.

Keith looks down at himself. He’s filled out after years in space, but the hoodie still hangs loose and baggy on him. It’s probably not an ugly look, but he can’t imagine it’s the height of fashion either.

“But it’s mine. My hoodie. It—” Shiro turns away for a moment before straightening his shoulders and turning fully towards Keith. “It makes you look like you’re mine.” 

Like Keith is Shiro’s. Shiro’s what? Shiro’s—

“ _Oh_ ,” Keith says, as things click into place. The blushing and the nervous shuffling suddenly make sense.

“I’m sorry, Keith.” Shiro says. “I didn’t mean to make things awkward. I know you don’t feel the same and I shouldn’t presume like that. You look like a guy in a hoodie.” Shiro nods, resolute but for the fidgeting, like he’s trying to convince someone, but Keith’s not sure which one of them the false confidence is for. 

The strange attempt at reassurance barely registers as Keith tries to fully process the enormity of what Shiro’s words mean—and of what Keith apparently means to Shiro.

“Shiro, that’s…” Keith doesn’t know how their signals have gotten so crossed. _That’s wrong, you’re wrong, I do feel the same._ “What if I do?”

“Do what?” Shiro asks.

“Want to look like I’m yours? Want to _be_ yours?” Keith says, and steps into Shiro’s space. He squeezes Shiro’s arm to reinforce his meaning, to make Shiro _get_ that _of course_ he wants Shiro in the same way Shiro apparently—impossibly—wants him. 

“Oh,” Shiro says, mirroring Keith’s realization. He looks at Keith with a tender fondness that is above all familiar—how many times has Shiro looked at him like that? And how many times did Keith never understand the feelings behind such looks? They’ve both been foolish in this.

The feelings Keith has been trying to hold back for what feels like forever churn up and he lets them flow free as a wave of pure want breaks over him.

Keith’s hand tightens on Shiro’s arm and Shiro’s floating hand comes to rest on Keith’s waist, pulling him in.

He surges up even as Shiro leans down to meet him in a searing kiss that chases out lingering cold and doubts alike, leaving Keith brimming with heat and happiness.

They break apart for air, and Keith rests his forehead against Shiro’s, marveling in the warmth of Shiro’s affection.

As their breaths mingle, Shiro whispers, “That makes me yours too.”

“ _Yeah_ ,” Keith says, and closes the distance again for another kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to [ailurea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ailurea) and [rarefiednight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarefiednight) for betaing! <3 
> 
> Thanks for reading ♥ All comments are loved, appreciated, and will be replied to (once the fic is not anon)!


End file.
